


A Collection of Short Stories

by Just_your_average_human_being



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adoption, Demons, Female to male transgender character, Foster Family, Ghosts, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of past kidnapping, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Poorly explained Paranoid personality disorder, Poorly explained avoidant personality disorder, Running Away, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Unreliable Narrator, character with a personality disorder, mention of human trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 14,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_your_average_human_being/pseuds/Just_your_average_human_being
Summary: Its all in the title. Some are interconnected with each other/set in the same universe, but they're all just ideas that formed in my head that I wrote down and decided to post online.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	1. Hey, don't jump, I'm here for you, little sister.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter involves an attempt at suicide, while not graphic or that focused on, it should be noted in case it's a sensitive topic to you.

There wasn't a sound to be heard in the night as she walked across the steel bar, arms spread as she tried to remain balanced on the thin platform. The wind whistled in her ears as she stopped in front of the end. She took a deep breath, preparing to jump.

The ding of her phone alerted her, should she answer? Would she let her last words be a text sent to a stranger? 

With hands that trembled she looked at the message.

'Hey, I was a friend of your brother while we volunteered at the mental hospital and I know in might be tough for you, so I must ask if you want to join the help group I started? I made sure to get therapists to assist in our recovery from his suicide.' 

She took a deep breath and thought about it. Was it really worth trusting a man she only met once? 

Another ding, the new text read. 'I understand if you don't want to, I wasn't that close, but his death affected me greatly as well so I assume it was work for you. Please just consider it.'

She bit her lip, glancing back down at the inky black water she stood over and typed up her response. 

'Sure, I do think I need some therapy from this event. Where's it located?' 

Hitting send, she made her way back to shore, a small smile on her lips.

Someone wanted her alive, a stranger, her cousin, her mother. She wasn't alone, she could deal with this, she could get help.

Looking up at the stars she knew, her siblings did something to help her. They wanted her alive.


	2. A deal with Death.

Silent music played through the halls, echoing in her ears. It's not real, they told her, it was all in her head.

Maybe so, but it felt so real, it sounded true, her father's flute playing, droning on and on. Mother called her crazy, accused her of insanity, there was no way she was hearing a dead man's music.

The priest assumed Satan had infected her, has tempted her with the promise of the missing piece of her family, corrupted her with the noise of a dead man.

It's sad, she thinks, glancing around the room, watching the dying sunlight spilling into her room, to think that we destroy every bit of evidence of a person's existence on death comes, to bring them to their final resting place.

The light flickered and she smiled, it had made true to it's promise and returned for her in ten years time. 

Craning her neck, she tried to catch a glimpse of it, but like before, it remain hidden expertly in the shadows.

"I believe you requested another game of chess to bet your life, the same deal?'

"If I win, you'll take me away, bring to my father. I can stand this place anymore, mom's gone mad and the priest think Lucifer's afoot." She croaked, coughing harshly, the lack of food and water taking affect.

"You want me to break the rules of death?" It asked, whisking up a glass of transparent liquid. No sooner was it in her hands that she swallowed it down, spilling some down the corners of her mouth in her haste.

"I don't see the problem, I'm dying anyway."

"I'll make a deal, I can't break the rule of taking a soul before time, but I can show you my face." 

Staring in awe at it, she broke into a grin, she never thought she'll she it's face. Nodding, she positioned herself as the board appeared before them.

"White goes first." It gestured with a carefully covered hand to her side. With a gleeful laugh, she moved her first piece.

And so the game began.


	3. Gay Fluff

"Dead man lying on the bottom of the grave, wondering when savior comes, are they going to be saved.

Maybe you're a sinner into your alternate life, maybe you're a joker, maybe you deserve to die.

They were crying when their sons left, God is wearing black, they’ve gone so far to find no hope, they're never coming back.

They were crying when their sons left, all young men must gone, they’ve gone so far to find no truth, they're never coming home.

Young man standing on top of their own grave, wondering when Jesus comes, are they going to be saved?" He paused, what came after that? He knew it was something along the lines of mourners and deserving to die, but he couldn't quite remember the exact words.

"You okay babe? You just suddenly stopped."

"I'm fine John, I just can't remember the next line." He responded, smiling down at his boyfriend. He looked like an angel, with his hair sprayed across the bed and dark brown eyes that he was sure held all the secrets of the universe peeking through half opened lids.

"That's good." The bed shifted and John leaned up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I don't remember the rest either to be honest, just got a little paranoid. You and silence usually don't end good." 

"Thanks, the concern is nice." He whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Love you boo."

A small smile touched John's lips as his arms wrapped around his waist, tucking his head on one of his outstretched legs. "Love you too." Escaped his lips as he stared in his eyes.

With a smile of his own, he laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. It felt nice, with his usually so stoic boyfriend cuddling up with him in their tiny apartment they're slowly renovating without a care in the world.

Things felt peaceful for once, he hoped it stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Soldier Side by System of A Down in case anyone was wondering.


	4. What a shame, what a shame.

Ryan was angry at me for stabbing his phone and car seat. Dragging me into my house in the middle of the night during my run, he shouted at me, physically pushing me into the wall.

I rebounded with the same amount of anger, throwing things at him, shouting at equal the volume as I batted away his hands. 

"LIKE YOU CAN ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY, YOU DON'T GO AROUND HITTING GIRLS WHEN THEY MAKE MISTAKES AND GET WEIRDED OUT BY YOUR ODD BEHAVIOR!" I shrieked, slamming the door to my room shut and locking it. "DON'T EXPECT ME TO OPEN THIS DOOR FOR YOU UNTIL YOU CAN PROVE TO ME THAT YOU CALMED DOWN RYAN!!!!"

Of course it would be stupid to not assume him above sneaking in through my window so in a swift walk, I locked it too.

Letting out a sigh, I laid on my bed, I'm not dealing with Ryan's mood right now.

"Babe, I'm sorry, you're right, I shouldn't have acted out for you being worried over my out of character actions. I just been stressed over being almost caught by the cops after you bailed me out and I took that stress out on you. It's fine if you don't want to talk to me for a while since I was acting rather shitty to you. Feel free to call me anytime to respond. I'm going to Mississippi for a bit to cool down and come back in a better head space."

I smiled, relistening to Ryan's apology for the third time that morning. He honest to God admitted again about his wrong doing to me. Running a finger over the silk blouse he gotten me as a part of his apology gift, I decided to wear it when he came back and clicked call.

"Hey, I got your message and yeah, cool down and lay low in Mississippi, I'll tell you when the police are off your tail so you can see me in the outfit." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm happy that you can verbally admit to being wrong now, but I haven't forgiven you yet. These abusive episodes need to never happen for me to do that, okay?"

Ending the call, I stared at my face in the mirror, the bruise luckily didn't cause any bumps on my skin so I just used a bit more foundation that usual, covering up the ugly mark so people won't question it.

Putting on a show stopping smile, I fished out my favorite shirt, I was going to feel comfortable in myself if I have to tote around a bruise.

I guess it's hypocritical, I killed an abuser, but I extend a hand out for someone who falling into abusive habits.

Then again, Ryan might rat me out if I do anything too drastic, so survival is on the line.

Sniffling a little, I bit my lip, what if I can't get out my own abusive relationship?


	5. Recruitment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This mentions child abuse and neglect, so feel free to skip it if you please.

He didn't look like someone who would hurt anyone. A twelve year old boy with a crooked, but sweet grin. How would anyone assume him a killer?

But, the report didn’t lie. He stabbed his mother and shot his father, claiming self defense, it was found that he endured horrific abuse and finally ‘snapped’ as he said.

She couldn’t see a cold hearted killer, only a child who wanted his problem fixed and over with.

They ended up together when the nurse requested her to visit a possible hunter. 

He kept trying to make her laugh, telling corny jokes, mostly about some form of abuse. But it wasn't the jokes she found funny, rather his laugh. She didn't know what about his laugh was so funny to her, but it made her smile and giggle.

How could this kid be responsible for two murders? He was so sweet and gentle. But she was here because he had and it showed potential for the M.H.S., the ability to kill uncaringly, the lack of any emotional depth in the face of danger.

As time went on, he had managed to lead the conversation to her, asking why she was in the hospital three years ago. She stopped laughing at that, quieting down and fiddling with her thumbs before explaining.

She told him how her adoptive parents refused to take her diabetes seriously, claiming it to be lies from some "Big Pharma" and that she was fine. They never stocked the fridge with the proper foods.

She explained that she fought through three years before falling into a diabetic coma at sixteen. He visibly grew angry at that, growling and snarling at seemingly nothing as she spoke.

When she finished, he muttered something couldn't quite hear. It sounded like how he'll kill them too. It was a bit touching to have such a serious claim made for her, but it was still unsettling nonetheless.

She talked about the court case and how they were given life in prison with no chance for parole, they were charged with child neglect, child endangerment, and were just lucky to not be charged with second degree manslaughter. 

Eric had asked why they were lucky and she explained how she had come to from the coma sometime during the last year of the trial. They managed to stretch it out for three years, going through lawyers almost monthly.

Eric once more asked why they were lucky and she realized, he wanted them to be hit with all these charges, he wanted them to be in jail for everything they have done to her and she was lost for words, why would he care so much, they had only met today.

It gave her a warm feeling in her heart as they continued talking, moving onto different subjects.


	6. Forgive and forget, I guess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ryan apologies and comes back from Mississippi, things seem to get easier for two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the story, What a shame, what a shame.

The sound echoed throughout the air as the body fell limp before me, what a beautiful feeling, the thrill of the kill.

An arm snaked around my waist and I leaned into Ryan's touch, staring at our newest conquer. His hand soothingly rubbed circles in my hip, leading me down the hall as some of his grunts cleaned up the mess.

"Let's go to Tony's tonight. Like an actual date." I smiled at his words, turning to look up at my boyfriend. He had a soft expression on his face, with a small smile and doe eyes.

"Of course we can go on an actual date for once Ry. I would love it." I didn't mention his odd behavior, I still had a bruise from last time.

As if reading my mind, he brushed a hand over the spot, frowning. "I must have slapped you harder than I thought if you're harboring a bruise, especially now." He stated softly.

"Don't worry Ry, it'll be gone by the end of this week, I promise." I giggled, kissing his cheek.

"If you say, I'm still sorry about that, I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." I sighed, shaking my head slightly.

"I keep telling you, don't worry, it's in the past. Its been three weeks by now, it happened and hasn't happened again." I laughed, stepping into my room. "Let me change before we head out." Shutting the door, I smiled softly, Ryan is acting so much better now.


	7. From home to home.

Rain pelted his face as he walked down the street, his sister tightly gripping his hand.  
Whether out of fear or comfort was the question.  
Thunder boomed from somewhere around them after a flash of lightning and he shivered. His hand felt numb in his sister's grip.  
He couldn't help but wonder where they were going, they were literally just kicked out of their last foster home and had seemingly no one to turn to, so where was she dragging him?  
Taking a sudden left, she began banging her fist on a door as they huddled under the overhang surrounding it.  
"It's nearly midnight, what brings you here-" The man cut himself off at the sight of them. "Mary? What are doing here? And who's your friend?"  
"Mr. George, my brother and I are in a desperate need of housing. Our foster parents kicked us out just this evening. I hope it no problem boss, I can do overtime to repay you." His sister began, clutching her unused hand against her chest.  
As George went to respond, he broke into a coughing fit and Mary turned to fuss over him, her words rapidly falling from her lips.  
"Hurry in, I'll fetch some towels and dry clothes." She looked relieved as her boss allowed them entrance. Thanking him in a strange mix of English, French, and Spanish.  
"Thank you." Her vomit of words finally ended as she was handed a towel and set of clothes, being directed to a bathroom by George.  
Once she exited, he entered, quickly changing and wrapping up in the towel.  
"Are you well Alex? Are you feeling alright?" His sister's worried voice filled the air as her arms entwined around his frame.  
"Your brother's name is Alex?"  
"Alexander." She corrected, laying her cheek on his dripping hair. Jerking up, she threw her towel over his head and began furiously rubbing at it, trying to dry it as she could. "Friends call him Alex or Al, but we don't stay around long enough to make any."  
"From foster home to foster home. The Peterson's are our current and they just kicked us out so we might be gone depending who thinks they want us." Finally the towel was removed from his head as Mary began to brush his hair with her hand. "I didn't know you had a son Mr. George."  
"Please, it's just George and he's my foster son." The man began explaining as the French accented boy sat down beside them.  
The crashing boom of thunder cut off what George was going to say as he cried out, gripping his sister arm as she pulled him close to her chest, her breath growing faster and heavier.  
"Are you two okay?" The boy beside them asked, reaching out to grab him.  
"We don't fair well with storms." His sister brushed off the other boy's hand as discreetly as possible, but the slight frown pulling at the man's lips told him he noticed.  
"Well it's late, so you should go to bed." George yawned and stood us, walking up the stairs as the three teens followed him. Mary's arm was still wrapped firmly around his shoulders as they were lead to guest bedrooms.  
Dropping her arm, she smiled softly as she ducked into the spare room. He would bunk with the Frenchmen.  
"So, Alexander, why were you and Mary kicked out of the house?'  
"Some old court case involving us was dug up, alongside rumors surrounding it. They didn't want to be associated with it, so they booted us out of the house." He whispered, remembering Mary's words, don't reveal too much, if they find out who we pissed off, it's over for us. A glance over told him that the boy wanted to know more. "I don't like talking about it though." He whispered, turning over to face away from the boy.


	8. Oh brother, why must you be so.

With cold eyes, she glazed over the blackened waters, how long had she fought with her brother, an endless battle between the two of them? 

She can still remember the beginning, when he first told her his plans, his desire to destroy it all. Rebelling against his ideal, him casting her into the fire.

Her being reborn as a demon and continuing this fight. Him making a deal with the devil. Her recruiting anyone for battle.

"Miss Louise are you okay? You've been staring into nothing for a while now."

"I'm fine Juliet, go talk to Brutus." She told the ebony cat, the queen didn't seem too pleased, but complied nonetheless.

Her familiar always knew when to come and help her, even if she pushed her away. The magical cat should probably left by now, as with the others.

But they stayed, they helped her achieve victory and weep with her during loses. They stayed by her side throughout this journey til they no longer could.

"Hello? Who are you?" There stood a man, clothes bloody and torn, beside his a crow, perched on a branch of the dying tree.

"You have been sent by the crow to enact revenge on those who've killed the one you cherish most and yourself. You have two days to do so. I can help you, but you must be the one to slay them. Tell me who killed you."

"The man who calls himself the end." The man's words were rushed, but clear and she couldn't help herself, she grinned for the first time in the last month. Finally, he was here, brought to her by the crow. 

He could kill her brother, it was what he was brought back for. 

Holding out her hand, she told him. "Then we have work to do, follow me."


	9. How fun it is

With less than a creak, she walked across the wooden bar above the stage, smiling as the people below stared in awe. It was always fun to impress the crowd with stunts, but the crew was even better to mess with.

She knew why they stared, it was rather odd for someone to walk across a two inch wide slab of wood with their hands tied behind their backs.

Stopping in the middle, she let herself fall, twisting to fall on her back instead of her stomach. Slamming onto the cold tile, she laughed at the horrified faces of the crew. People swarmed around her, their conversation turning into a mesh of voices.

It wasn't every day you could see a girl who could indent a crater into a stage without receiving any injuries after all.


	10. A friend for God.

I wonder sometimes that I might not be alone in this world, that there might be someone else out there for me to meet.

It's lonely, being the only here. With no one to share this infinite abyss with, without a friend, I feel sad.

Staring at the masses of dust floating around me, I got an idea, what if I were to create my own friends? A place for them to stay?

As soon as the idea hit me, I was off, collecting the bits of rocks and light around me and began working diligently, shaping him to look exactly how I imagined. Huge arching wings, a body that stand upright on two limbs with another set to grasp at and hold things.

I gave him eyes, shining, bright brown eyes, with matching brown hair, his skin was the deep ebony of the rocks his body was made.

And with the light, I gave him a soul, brilliant, bright, and firey, he would be my companion til the end of time.

His name? Lucifer.


	11. A family for me.

His fingers hit the keys as he stared at the screen, trying to make out his words and fight sleep ebbing away at him. He couldn't go to bed, not now, not when inspiration hit him. He had a deadline to meet and he wasn't going to disappoint his publishers.

A yawn broke his flow and he groaned in anger, laying his head down, now he'll never finish this chapter.

"Mr, O, don't you think it's time for bed? It's rather late to write." He smiled to himself at her words, turning to look at the girl standing in the doorway. His sweet Audrey, the light of his life.

"Of course, I was just inspired to write my dear, I'll finish tomorrow." He reassured his foster child, taking her hand and leading her down the hall, his cane tapping softly alongside his steps. "And what did I tell you, it's just dad."

"I know dad, I just knew you'll respond to Mr. O." And now she wore that cheeky little grin she was infamous for.

Even if it was a little hard, he could readjust to living with someone, to move on from the night he lost his wife and unborn child.

He could have a family.


	12. Sacrifice

Softly, almost unheard, was the sound of drums, echoing throughout the halls as she ran. This ritual stuff, what was it about? Reviving a long dead prince of Hell? Why would The Sinner's monsters try to revive the man he killed?

With a scream, she fell down a pit, feeling cold air grab at her with a vice grip. Falling short of breath, her scream was cut off as she crashed onto a pile of something.

She really hated the physics of this world. A death from the fall would have been more preferable than being the sacrificial sheep to revive a demon prince. 

Though Jean-Marie would still find a way to punch her across earth for letting herself get killed by something so mundane. Or killed at all, so she struggled up, whimpering with every bone snapping back in place.

Yeah, she really hated the fun house's physics.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to limp down the desolate hallway, trying to not stare at the piles of corpses surrounding.

Leave it to her to find the feeding room.

The drums were getting louder as she stumbled through the halls, telling her she was headed the wrong direction. 

She couldn't bring herself to care, how long has she been searching for an exit? What, fourteen years? With all their time bending powers, she couldn't tell anymore, it all blurred together.

Finally, she stood before them, shoulders sagging as she looked them in the eyes. "So, let's get this show on the road." Letting out a raspy laugh at her own joke, she didn't fight the hooded man dragging her to a stone slab that laid in the middle of the floor.

As she lay on the cold stone, she watched as a knife was raised above her, the cloaked man started chanting something in a strange language.

Then the knife plunged in and all she saw was black.


	13. We got you.

The rain drummed softly in the background as he stared into the inky skies. Everything was just gloomy, John hated him, his parents were going to sell him to a human trafficker, everyone he cares about probably hates him, how could he let himself sink so low?  
Shoving his hoodie sleeve in his mouth and biting, he tried to muffle his cries, curling up on the seat of the train.  
Rushing through the train's cars, he silently begged to find Merry. He couldn't believe the utter stupidity that happened between the kid and his twin. As if John had any right to critic Merry for criminal acts.  
Pausing slightly, he rubbed at his ear, feeling the scarred skin under his fingers. He could still remember the feeling of melting skin with his mom stabbed him with the poker stick.  
Shaking his head, he forged on, determined to find that dumbass.  
He could hear Joseph’s shouts, the same loud and domanienting noise. It made him curl up into a tighter ball as the sounds became louder and louder.  
“COME ON YOU DORK! I CAN’T HAVE YOU GOING MISSING ON ME EITHER!” He flinched, Joseph was just outside the door from him. Biting down on the cotton sleeve, he let out a sob, tucking his head between his knees and shaking. “Hey, bud it’s okay, we’re talking some sense in the dense fuck, I got you.”  
Joseph’s arms carefully surrounded him, cradling him gently as he was pulled closer to the brunet’s chest. “I got you, it’s going to be okay.”  
The train lurched under them and Joseph let out a colorful string of swears, standing up as the train started moving. “Okay, I may have misspoken, but a small setback isn’t that bad.”  
“It’s okay little Bambi, you don’t have to say anything. I got you.” He smiled at that, of course Joseph went with the worse case scenario, why wouldn’t he? They were currently on a train headed off to the North.  
I wasn’t saying that, dumbass, I was saying to not jinx us. He signed, smiling a bit as the deaf boy flushed.  
“Oh, shit, sorry. Head went a little sideways there.” He laughed alongside Joseph, smiling even wider.  
He clung to Joseph, smiling stupidly, they cared about him, someone cared about him.


	14. I will find you, mother.

With dull eyes, she stared at the swirling liquid, trying to decipher the message left behind, there was seemingly nothing, but she knew her mother well, even the most inconspicuous thing was hiding something.

In almost an unperceivable movement, her eyes caught it, just below the cloudy surface laid a small necklace.   
Her mother’s medallion, a gift from her father before he had to leave.

Her mother didn’t abandon her as they claimed, she would never leave her medallion behind, it was too precious, too valuable to keep off her person.

This was the sign, her mother is trapped somewhere and she is determined to get her back.

Plunging her hand in, she hissed at the sting of the liquid, her hand quickly being pulled out once it clasped around the chain holding the ruby encrusted eagle. 

Staring at it, her face broke out into a grin, despite the minor burns on her skin, she felt overjoyed to hold something that meant mother was alive and she didn’t abandon her.

As the light caught the jeweled surface, she watched it shine and reflect.

She could do it.


	15. How it Began

It began with animals, the feeling of watching them die excited me. Enticed me to kill, the way the blood painted the grass beneath them and stained the Earth red. I had gotten a hunting license at twelve, legally allowed to hunt and kill them for my pleasure and amusement. 

I enjoyed partaking in their consumption as well, the way their flesh tasted buttered up and fried was complete and utter heaven.

However, the killing of animals was easy, boring even. I had already set my eyes on a better prey, one much more exciting. I was above consuming them, of course, but I needed a way to dispose of their body. Maybe I could give it to my clubmates in culinary, they do enjoy a nice meat pie.

The first person I killed was an annoying classmate, on my eighteenth birthday, a little gift from me to me. It took days, preparing him to be cooked and served, with all that fat and blubber on him. There was barely any way I could do so. I took my time through, deboning and preparing him for the slow cooker.   
Humans taste like pork, I think, so it will be just like pulled pork!

Once I had finished, I added the final touches. He was no longer an annoying, fat, loud, obnoxious, and appalling creature, but instead a sweet and sour pork sandwich.

The class loved it, commenting on the unique taste and how well it worked in the dish. Some asked me for the recipe, understanding my polite refusals. I couldn’t let it slip what went into the sandwiches, they wouldn’t understand.


	16. His Anger

His anger and annoyance filled my own head with thoughts of rage. His existence leered at me, tempted me to do something.

I don’t think I’d flinched when doing it. Unceremoniously bashing his head in with a cement block. I do believe, however, that I laughed at his misfortune. This man, who’s existence tormented me for years, was finally gone.

Laughter turned to a horse crackling as I leaned over him, cement block still in hand. Soon it twisted into a breathless wheeze as I flopped down beside him.


	17. Bastard

He was an annoying classmate, throwing around broken pieces of noodles in the classroom, yelling and shouting. The teacher wasn’t helpful either, only giving him stern warnings she never went through with.

Something in me snapped and soon we were on the floor, I was on top, plummeting fist after fist in his face. And as blind rage sputtered and died down, I grabbed a pen, tempted to stab it in the most tender of flesh.

Thoughts left me as I raised my fist, ready to bring it down on him.

Shaking my head, I smirked, I had something to do.


	18. An Explanation.

I stood at my mirror, fiddling with my hair, I was still in my pajama, a simple white t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. It wasn’t like I had anything to do, I was just visiting my therapist.

But I was taking Jon with me and a part of me felt embarrassed to speak to him in such clothes. I fidgeted once again, thumbing the hole in my shirt.

“I doubt Jon’s going to care about what makes you feel comfortable, you two are going to visit Ria after all.” Alex reminded me, I could see him lean against the doorframe through the mirror. “And if he does judge you, well, I'm not against punching my friends.” He continued with a shrug.

“It’s fine Alex, it’s just my anxiety.” I mumbled, making my way out my room as someone knocked on the door. “Call one of your friends if you plan on going out.” I shouted as I opened the door. Jon stood in a pair of jeans and a ratty, old hoodie.

“Oh come on, it happened once!” Alex screamed back, an exasperated sigh following soon after.

“One time too many young sir, I am not having you crash again if I can.” Shutting the door before Alex could respond, I pulled Jon to his car. “There is an explanation for that.” I told him as we got in. “It involves a medical diagnosis that revolve around sleep.” I continued at Jon's curious expression. “Alex got diagnosed with insomnia. So he’s constantly tired, resulting in him getting into a minor collision with a stop sign, he’s banned from driving now.”

"How are you stopping him from driving right now then?” I smiled, holding up the car keys and jiggling them. Jon snorted at the sight of them dangling in my hand. “So where are we going?”

“Just keep going until I tell you something direction wise.” I shrugged, curling a finger around my hair. “I see you took my dress like a bum advice too literally.”

“I like this hoodie, I just never have a reason to wear it and this was an opportunity, almost no one will recognise me.” He stated, stopping at a redlight.

“When you reach Oak street, go right and once you hit The Old Ice Cream Parlor, turn left.” I instructed, closing my eyes.

“I wasn’t aware there was a therapist office down that way.”

“There isn’t Rioa’s office is somewhere way far off, but since it would have been too long of a drive to get there, we just go to her house. It’s convenient.” I muttered, feeling the car lurge right. “And the environment is easier for me to talk in.” I explained.

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“My psychotherapist, Tanya is also there to explain my condition to you, flew all the way in from Belgium to do so.” I added, leaning my head against the glass. “I know we moved past that, but I always forget your Harold Lord’s son, you two are just so different.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” 

“No problem.”

The rest of the trip was in silence, it was suffocating, but I didn’t mention it to him. It didn’t feel right to do so.

He seemed to know through, as he turned on the radio, humming along to it as we drove.

“Left.” I barked and we jolted uncomfortably into the street. “Ria’s house is the last one, bright white walls.” I told him, staring at all the other browns and beiges sprinkled houses.

“I nearly missed that, how did I nearly miss an entire street?” He asked, laughing at his own disbelief.

“It’s surprisingly common, I missed the first time I went to her house, and was late to my appointment by nearly an hour. It just happens.” I laughed with him, shaking my head. “It will be harder to miss her house through, with all these brown.” 

“I would imagine.” He muttered, pulling into Ria’s driveway, a sleek pink car was already parked there, Tanya’s.

Stepping out, I ached my back, feeling and hearing the familiar cracks as I waited for Jon. “Come on, I’m sure they’ll love to meet you.”

“Yeah, one came all the way from Belgium for me.” He followed me nervously up the driveway, fidgeting ever so slightly with the edge of his hoodie, grabbing his hand, I entwined our fingers.

“You wouldn’t be the first kid to be nervous of meeting them, definity isn’t the last.” I reassured him, throwing open the door. “She has arrived with a guest!” I shouted, ducking into the house. Instantly, Charles jumped on me, kissing all over my face, leaving slobber everywhere. “You’re so lucky I don't wear make up here.” I snorted, wiping my face.

“Hello.” Tanya cheered, throwing her arms around my neck. Pulling apart, she started fussing over Jon. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Jon Lord, I am so happy you decided to listen to your friend’s doctors instead of just going it off of the internet.” She purred, pride clear as day in her. “Come sit, me and Ria were having coffee while we waited.” 

With a giggle, I let the eccentric lady lead the way, hand still clasped in Jon’s. Loosening my fingers, I let him slide out of my grip and tried to stick my hands in my pockets. Feeling them slid down my shirt and not catch in anything, I blinked and just grabbed my left wrist instead. Ria was sipping at mug when we walked in, an amused smirk on her lips as she watched Tanya’s bustle around, listening to her speech.

“I have never thought i’ll meet the day where someone took the time to learn about their friend’s problems by talking to the professional. They almost always google it and read the first article written, without realizing they are reading about what an outsider sees, not what truly happening. Now Jon, you might want to sit down for this and I want you to save all your questions for after I explain, okay?” At his nod, she coughed and took her own seat. “Mary LeBlanc is struggling with two personalities disorders, both of which have made it very difficult for her to socialize with others.”

Ria gently pulled into her office as Tanya continued to explain my ASPD and AVPD to him. We when through my usual activities, identifying unhelpful and innacture ideas of myself, updating her on my personal achievements for the advoidents. She remained calm and firm when I let my frustrations out. She listened when I sobbed about I felt obligated to not be angry when Jon was around, which had increased significantly since our befriending. She reassured me that it’s understandable to do so, that I was afraid of how Jon would react and how it will change his viewpoint of me and Alex, but i will one day have to learn how to since he would know of my problems.

When we finished, Jon was waiting for me in the living room, staring at his hands, Tanya was nowhere in sight. Fear squeezed my lungs closed and there was a struggle to breath as he didn’t look up.  
“I see why you hid this from me.” He began and I felt tears form at my eyes. “These disorders, they’re so complex and hard to understand, and with one of them literally being about how you have extremely low self-esteem and self worth, it makes sense. If you were to just tell me you had these disorders without getting the professionals to explain it to me, I don’t think I would be able to understand even a bit of what I do. I probably would have dropped you as a friend out of blind fear. Thank you for trusting me enough to do this.” 

With a sob, I lunged at Jon, clinging to him as I cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I repeated over and over again. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t. I didn't know how to tell him how grateful that for once, when I told someone new about my disorders, he didn’t turn his back on me. I didn’t know how to tell him how much his compassion and empathy means to me, how much it was valued.

But I knew how I could tell him. Thanking him one last time, he offered to buy me an ice cream cone from The Old Ice Cream Parlor and we can do something fun.  
Fun, something I doubt I ever truly enjoy, but it was worth it to spend time with someone I care about. Someone who cared about me, and someone who remained by my side even after knowing the darker parts of me.

“Tanya told me.” He began in the car, suddenly nervous again. “She told me, yours and Alex’s disorders come from past trauma, but she never explained to me what it was and I was wondering, if it’s okay by you and Alex, if you can tell me.”

I paused, mulling over how to answer, I didn’t want to come off as hostile to Jon. “I am surprised Alex hasn’t already told you his side of the story yet, being that you two have been friends longer. It would be surprisingly easy to do despite our closeness during those days, just have me remain anonymous, but I can see why he wouldn’t want to talk about it. You are not Christian, but you have a Christian family and people generally don’t like accusations that can be taken personally and the place we were at was heavily christian.” I actually didn’t know the reason, but I was stalling for time, I had to disclose this with Alex.

“You could’ve just told me you wanted to talk with Alex about this first, it’s not that shocking to know that someone who experience trauma with someone would consult them when talking about it.” Jon didn’t sound mad at my bluff, he didn't even sound disappointed, he just spoke to me. “Is there a reason you felt the need to lie?”

“It’s complicated Jon, I don’t know why I lie in these times, it just slips out and I feel compelled to finish it.” I admitted. Talking to Jon was like talking with Ria or my family, there wasn’t that fear of judgment that came with every word I spoke, there wasn’t that doubt of people getting angry when I was wrong. “If it makes you feel better, I have not lied about anything important in my life, just everything else at complete random.”

”Does that have something to do with your disorders.”

“Maybe, while being deceitful and manipulative is a part of ASPD, it is not present in everyone suffering from it. And when it comes to AVPD, I’m more likely to just not talk about it in fear of being judged about it.” My honesty came easier with each passing second I talked, there was no compulsion to fabcat an entire story toi my friend. “I want a scoop of rocky road and triple chocolate in chocolate coated waffle cone.” I stated, spotting the ice cream parlor, were we really talking for a few seconds?

He didn’t question why I didn’t want to get out of the car, already used to general anxiety consuming me when it came to social interactions with strangers. He just smiled and went to fill out my request.  
In a few minutes he was back, handing me my ice cream as he got in the car, licking his own. “There is something I can tell you, one event that’s completely mine and mine alone.” I whispered, shivering as I recollected memories. “At the age of four, I had been drawing something in class, I was always an artistic kid, doodling, writing, telling stories to those who listened, , and well, one of the teachers found out and got angry. That was the first time I ever went to a solitude room, which is where the source of a lot of our rauma actually comes from. It was horrible, the monotone color and lack of any social interaction was-'' I paused, trying to find the right word, how do I translate the beginning of years worth of abuse down into one word? “It was-” There it was again, the inability to say what it was. “Harsh I guess? Maybe a stronger word would be better. But that is not the point. The point is, my trauma started at the age of four when I was ridiculed and punished for something mundane and meaningless. And everything spiraled down from there.” It became a struggle to find the right words as I was thrown back to those days. The screaming filled my head and I quickly sunk my teeth into my ice cream to pull myself away from it. The biting cold startled me from my overwhelming emotional crisis.

“I’m sorry if you felt forced to tell me that.” Jon whispered, staring at the road, he looked ready to cry.

“Don’t, it’s relieving in a way. Yeah, immediately afterwards isn't fun, but there's just this weight off my shoulders once it’s over and I can still look at you without fearing you’ll reject me for having issues.”

“I don’t think it’s healthy to call you disorders ‘issues’.” 

“Ria tells me to think of my disorders as I wish as long as it is beneficial to improving myself. I think of them as monsters honestly, as shadowy figures that lurk around me and drive people away.”

“And how do you view people who don’t run?”

“As a shining bright light, who drives away the monsters.” I whispered, glancing at him. “Is it okay if I turn on the radio, I don’t want to talk anymore, but silence isn’t a favorable tone for me.” Cursing myself once the words were out of my mouth, I wondered how I managed to structure a sentence like. “I believe it was clear by my inability to properly explain that.” 

He just laughed and switched on the radio, not shaming me for my less than perfect speech.  
With a smile, I sunk my teeth in my ice cream once again, staring out the window to the highway where the occasional car passed by. 

In a few minutes we were on the road again, Jon filling the quiet with stories of his family and music from the radio, which he had no problem singing along to. It was fun, watching him over enunciate words and pulled off exaggerated voices as he did. 

“Did you really have to steal the keys?’ Was the first thing I heard when we walked into the room, Alex was standing in the living room with Lafayette and Hercules, a pout already forming on his lip.  
Dropping the keys in the tray, I mouthed a later and ducked into my room, Jon following. “Are you ever going to talk to them?”

“I accepted the fact that they don’t think I’m a nice person or someone worth their time.” I admitted, shrugging, I admitted a lot of things to Jon, even things I don’t admit to Alex. “They already tell him about how they don’t think he should hang out with me.” 

“What?”

“Walls are thin and they are loud. Especially Lafayette, I swear his inside voice is shouting.” I told him as I flopped onto my bed. “Sometimes, when Alex forgets I’m here, he invites them over and they talk, call me a bad influence and says he should drop me as a friend. But, they don’t know a lick of Alex’s past, so they don't understand our connection, I can’t blame them for that,”

“You, a bad influence? Which version of you have they met?”

“The one were me and him smoked a pack of cigarettes together. It was a relapse and we haven’t done it since, but apparently that’s enough to demonize me, didn't need to know any disorder.”

“Doesn’t Alex have NPD? Wouldn’t that affect how he reacts to those things?”

“Okay, 2 things, 1, Tanya was only supposed to tell you and explain my disorders so she can go screw herself with a cactus, 2, I have no clue, he’s incredibly private about his disorder. He’s ashamed of it thanks to the media pushing this stigma of disorders like ASPD and NPD are dangerous and that people with them are automatically hurtful people. There was a reason I wrote a damn near 70 page long essay about the harm the media has done to mental disorders and illnesses.” Jon laughed, taking a seat beside me and leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, I found that out when she let me go through your diagnoses, yours and Alex’s were in the same pile.”

“She needs to learn how to organize her stuff because I will fight her if that ends up hurting Alex.” 

“What will hurt me?” I snapped up to stare at Alex, he and Lafayette were standing at the door, the Frenchman had his eyes to the floor and just kinda looked ashamed. 

“Something you probably want to speak about in private.” Jon stated, eyes narrowing on Lafayette. “What’s Lafayette doing here, thought he didn’t like Mary.” There was a threatening undertone in Jon’s words that Alex smiled about.

“He’s here to apologize, I’m done with him acting like my socially anxious friend is a problematic person in my life.” He glared at the man with every word he spoke. “So after having to beat it into his head, I finally got him to do the right thing.” Alex looked gleeful as he finished.

With a nervous tremble that was so unlike the Frenchman, Lafayette walked up to me. “Mary, I must apologize for some of the things I have spoken about you behind your back. I was unaware of your social anxiety and harmful upbringing.” Leave it to Alex to manage to explain my problems without giving anything away. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope we can mend this.” He held out a hand.

I wanted to cry when I took it and shook, whispering out a choked thank you and you’re forgiven. This was the first time anyone ever apologized to me for their misconstrued thoughts, it was the first time anyone even attempted to do something like that. He awkwardly left and Alex ponced.

“What do you know Jon?”

“I know you’ve been formally diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder thanks to your psychotherapist having her papers mixed up.” Jon admitted, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It was an accident, I wasn’t supposed to find out.”

“Just blame it on Tanya, her inability to ever keep things organized is a nightmare. Did she explain any of the details?”

“She explained a lot of the misconceptions about it as well as gave a vague reference to what happened to you in order for you to have it. She always gave me a run down of your symptoms and the behavioral therapy you go through to help manage this disorder.” He looked Alex directly in the eye. “Alex, I understand if you’re scared of me knowing, I would be too if what I had was villainized by everything I see. However, I want you to know that, alongside Mary’s disorders, I am not scared of you for having them, I will turn my back on you because you have these disorders, I will do my best to understand how these disorders affect your everyday life and how I can help you.”

Alex collapsed into Jon’s arms with a sob. “Just continue being who you are.” He managed to get out through gasps and coughs. “I don’t have the words to express how grateful I am to have someone like you in my life.” He continued, shaking lightly.

Jon just hummed and sat back down, letting one of his hands curl up in mine, we sat in my room, in complete silence.

And for once, that silence wasn’t suffocating me.


	19. Something, I don't have a title for it.

It happened too quickly, one moment he was standing up right, the next he was crumbling down. Knees buckled under stress and distantly he heard his own breath quicken as he hit the floor. Words were lost to hit him as people rushed around.

People, lots and lots of people. They kept coming, flooding his senses despite his friends commands to stay away. They all wanted to gawk at the kid suffering through a panic attack.

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP PEOPLE, GET A MOVE ON. THERE ISN’T ANYTHING YOU NEED TO SEE HERE. UNLESS YOU’RE A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL STAY THE FUCK BACK!” Johnny’s voice boomed throughout the street, scaring away the nosy bystanders. “Hey there little buddy, I got you.” His cousin’s voice washed over him and he twitched, leaning into the larger man. “Do you want some water?” There was a pause and he slowly nodded. “Okay, Mary’s going get a bottle right now, that okay?” He gave another nod.

“Would you like Johnny to carry you back home?” A third nod and he was lifted up, held bridal style as the man walked, calmly reciting 1-10 in Russian.

The presence of his cousin and almost sister was comforting, it reminded him of when the first attack came and they didn’t know what to do. How Mary ended up sobbing into his hair as she whispered numbers in order until he calmed down. Now, with more experience, she whispered things to remind him of where he was, who he is, how it’s okay.

He was feeling much better when they returned home and he was cuddled by the other four. It grounded him, physical touch, kept his feet firmly on the floor despite every part of him screaming to float away. 

Because floating away is dangerous, it could last for hours, days even. So the comforting embrace of Mary and George was desired, Charles’ arm lazily thrown over his waist as he pressed against Mary’s back was okay, laying on Johnny’s back as he laid on the sofa felt right.

They didn’t ask what caused it, there were too many factors to account for, too much that could have set off the bells in his head. It wasn’t even that common for them to have these attacks, Mary used to have them almost daily, the mere thought of having to talk caused her to break down in such ways. Johnny was the rarest out of them, only having them be triggered by prolonged periods of time trapped in a room. George gets them whenever someone mentions the name Georgia, Charles just had shitty luck and it was passed down through his genetics.

That's how they became friends, they met George and Charles on the streets in the poorer side of town, smoking a joint to calm George down. Mary was already building up for her own, so he asked to join and they started talking some more. Soon they met outside of the need for a blunt, hanging out on school grounds and such. They stuck together, quickly letting in Dria despite her lack of any panic attacks. Because, while they bonded over this problem, it wasn’t what their friendship was built on. 

Over time the two were integrated into their family, becoming unofficial members of them. Thomas Jefferson loved them, James had taken a quick liking to Charles, Tommy and George were soon attached by the hip, almost inseparable. 

Of course there was mishaps and problems, Johnny’s temper and recklessness lead too often to him being detained by a police officer with the threat of being arrested if he didn’t fix herself, and Mary’s more subtle ways of threatening people to do her bidding was regularly the topic of interest among them as they try to lessen her nearly emotionless responses to life. Dria’s and his raging need for praise and attention has nearly drove them away every now and again, but they understood why it was so important that people recognized their abilities. Tommy’s schizophrenic episodes would scare anyone if they didn’t know what was going on, the overwhelming need to be delicate around James has caused fights to break out among them, and Thomas’ overt behaviors are often too much for Mary and him to deal with. Charles’ attacks often paved way for them to have ones as well, and George’s family has once almost ripped him away from them.

That day, that day was a dozy.

Mary got arrested that day, ended up hospitalizing the poor bastard, irreversibly damaging his spine and an arm. She was supposed to get a year of jail time and refused to let herself be bailed out by her family, but she got sent to a mental hospital after a suicide attempt, that was when she was officially stamped as a monster in the eyes of the public.

She had ASPD, antisocial personality disorder, the violent disorder, the one that serial killers have, the one everyone means when they say sociopath or psychopath, she was a monster for having a personality disorder. They wanted her in jail with no chance of parole because she had the thing of nightmares.

Never mind it stemmed from horrific abuse she suffered in the school, never mind she was also diagnosed with AVPD, avoidant personality disorder, the very same day, never mind the fact she has atypical depression as well, just call her a monster for the singular illness she has paired with the other slew of them. 

It was the same with Johnny, when he learned about the symptoms of ASPD, he got himself admitted for testing as well and found out he also had it. George and Charles didn’t see them any less, welcomed them back with open arms. That would be the first time he saw Mary cry out of pure relief.

He and Dria came next, his foster father worried he might also be damaged in such a way from the school and Dria was admitted due to a similar mindset to someone with NPD.

Turned out they both had NPD, narcissistic personality disorder, him with the addition of PPD, paranoid personality disorder. Once again, there was no judgement from their friends and they came back to open arms. He proudly admits to sobbing that day. Life just seemed so much better.

And he smiled as Mary’s hair brushed against his face and George dug his nose in his neck, content with his life as it is.


	20. Somtimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains mentions of attempt suicide, it not talked about a lot, but it's there.

Sometimes I get it in my head that I’m not worth the friendship I got, that I’m taking advantage of the good man heart. I know it’s nothing more than false beliefs I put in my head, but there is always that part of me that truly believes I’m a toxic person and is ruining all my relationships. 

And sometimes, I let those thoughts win, let them consume until I cut everyone off and distance myself to save them from myself. I start to isolate myself from group parties, staying in a secluded corner of the room and speaking out even less than usual, they don’t notice this, just thinking it was a bout of silence I was going through. Then I would start to skip them all together, choosing instead to lay in the comforts of my room.

They start to worry after that, and that dark part of my brain convinces me that it’s deprived from abuse victims coming back to their abusers thanks to the sick and twisted views of what their relationship is. I still kept quiet, choosing to hide my face in my pillows and pretend to not hear them screaming for me to come out from the other side of that wall.

Then, one time, came a suicide attempt. It may have only happened once, but that single attempt was enough to scare my family into being extra cautious around me.

That attempt happened on a Monday, back then I really was a toxic human being. I wasn’t aware how much I actually mimic from my own abusers and reflected it to others. I was blind sided and thought I had risen above them.

But, that all came crashing down when I fucked up. I had hurt my brother, my family, and that’s when I saw how horrible I actually was. I had the whole high school under my thumb because I was ruthless and cruel, people were scared of me. I own them and I commanded them with a snap of my fingers.

Like how they controlled me with the sound of a belt hitting the walls.

I became my abuser, I repeated that awful cycle and ended up hurting another person who suffered that same abuse as I did. And in response, I started that habit of isolating myself until people worried.

But I only attempted suicide the first time. I had climbed out onto my window seal and I let myself fall into the ground below. I impacted it sideways, slamming into the ground hard enough to indent the grass below me.

I survived, clearly, Dria was close by and was able to call an ambulance for me before doing what she can to help keep my odds of living above 50%. I guess I was lucky to have a medical genius by my side.

I don’t remember how long I was in the hospital, everything was passing in such a blur, all I know was that it was too long and too short at the same time. I wasn’t able to go home just yet, however, instead I was forced to talk to a psychotherapist so they can see if there’s someone wrong with me.

They found several, through basic questions, they narrowed down to a list of mental disorders I could have and from there, those tests began. My lack of emotional connections, the violent and impulsive behavior that got me my high school reputation was found to be ASPD, my unwillingness to join social events, general social ineptness and crippling anxiety was AVPD, long bouts of depression that are occasionally broken by small periods of happiness was atypical depression, I was just a slew of problems. Tanya, the psychotherapist, told me it was okay to have these disorders and that I can work to deal with them in a healthy manner.

She avoided making any implication that these things were curable, giving me a sad smile when she told me these things weren’t when I asked about it. 

That would be my only attempt at suicide, I would hold myself above trying it again. It was just too much to put my family through again, I deal with isolating myself and shutting out any form of connection people try to extend to me thanks to the thoughts in my head, but I refuse to do that to them again.

Of course, sooner or later, they bring in the professionals. Alex has actually been doing it a lot more, calling in Ria and Tanya in for me when I spend more a full day in my room without leaving for anything. They reassure me that these things are just figments of my imagination and that I have moved on from that period of my life where I was an abuser, that I was on the path to recovery and that I was becoming a better person by the day.

I constantly feel that I need to prove that statement, how I have better myself, which leads to their own toxic thoughts. How I’m faking everything in my life and that once people find out, they’ll leave me.

I used to think ASPD was such a black and white mental illness, you were an emotionless monster, but I see that I was wrong, there is so much more to it than just a lack of empathy and emotional connection.

Because I knew I was emotionally attached to my friends, I was emphatic to them, I cared about them. And I am scared of the day when they find out my disorder and they look it up, because they might not do as in depth research as possible, they might take a glance at the symptoms and call me an abusive freak, tossing me out on the side of the road.

And it circles back to the beginning, I start to distant myself, prepared for my inevitable downfall in my friend group. I start to isolate myself, barricading myself in my room, unable to look at the people I feel will one day learn the truth and drop me like a fly.

I’m stuck in a horrific cycle of my own self destructive habits and I can’t figure out how to break it. 

Sometimes, it feels like I can’t break it, no matter what I try.

And occasionally, I think I deserve this self abusive cycle of hate.


	21. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I try to write a song fic, or whatever it's called.

_ Good for you, you fooled everybody _

_ Good for you, you fooled everyone _

_ Good for you, now you're somebody _

_ Good for you, you fooled everyone _

She smiled despite how much pain it brought her, making sure she looked pretty for the photos, probably the last ones she’ll ever take.

Beside her, Alex shifted uncomfortably, pressing closer to her side as Johnny’s large hands laid on their shoulders. Her smile nearly fell at the sight of the menacing look the lady was giving Alex and she instantly grabbed his hand.

A part of her prayed the rumors about the school they were about to go was false.

_ Leave your weapon on the table _

_ Wrapped in burlap, barely able _

_ Don't get angry, don't discourage _

_ Take a shot of liquid courage _

The knife dropped to the ground with barely a sound as she stretched out on the dirty street, swallowing down another bottle of beer, she wanted to just give up, Alex was sick again, going in and out of a feverish state. There was no point in any of this, they’re in America, they’re american citizens, there isn’t any need to be in this situation.

Johnny wasn’t fairing much better either, constantly on the ready to beat up the next person to make fun of their defeat.

But they couldn’t do that, they had to act nice to get money and she couldn’t give up because her brother needed her to not to. She had to take this head on if she wanted to live.

_ Cause my monsters are real, and they're trained how to kill _

_ And there's no comin' back and they just laughed at how I feel _

_ And these monsters can fight, and they'll never say die _

_ And there's no goin' back, if I get trapped I'll never heal _

_ Yeah, my monsters are real _

Every single night was the same thing, the same dream of white walls with no interior decor surrounding her, entrapping her in a room of complete nothingness, driving her mad. Broken sobs could be heard from another room, crying out for a woman he never meet, crying out for his mama.

The sound of screaming still echoes her ears during the day, but there was no recollection of where those screams came from, not like in her dreams.

_ Good for you, you hurt everybody _

_ Good for you, you hurt everyone _

_ Good for you, you love nobody _

_ Good for you, you owe no one _

She could still remember the feeling of the leather belt coming down on her skin when she spoke, unable to form any real words. She could still recall Alex’s fantic screams in languages she didn’t understand as they insulted and hurt him, the term prodigy still gave her a sour taste in her mouth even if she didn’t know what it meant.

Because they used that word to shame and ridicule her brother and if it was used for that, then the words are surely a cruel one. She still remembers those signs surrounding the premise of the school, signs that claimed it to be a loving and supporting place for children on the streets.

Oh how wrong were those signs.

_ Leave your weapon on the table _

_ Wrapped in burlap, barely able _

_ Call a doctor, say a prayer _

_ Choose a god you think is there _

She looked up at the stars and wondered if God was really looking down and the planet and thinking everything was alright, was he upset at the way humans have turned against each other? Was he disappointed at the current state of affairs?

Glancing over at her brother and their cousin as they slept, Alex was still feverish and Johnny was restless still, she sent up a prayer, hoping for her brother to be of well being by tomorrow and that they’ll have a better home soon. Laying her head down, she let her own eyes shut.

_ 'Cause my monsters are real, and they're trained how to kill _

_ And there's no comin' back and they just laughed at how I feel _

_ And these monsters can fight, and they'll never say die _

_ And there's no goin' back, if I get trapped I'll never heal _

_ 'Cause my monsters are real _

The memories of a worse time came back to her, of children who bullied and teased, who were also abused and had no other way to deal with it. How they would throw rock their way, laugh when they teared up at the pain.

But it was the adults who were the worst, tossing them in rooms of shadowy black and leaving them to strave, their crow laughter still echoed in her skull as her eyelids peeled open and she leaned against the wall.

No sleep for her tonight.

_ Leave your weapon on the table _

_ Wrapped in burlap, barely able _

_ Don't get angry, don't discourage _

_ Take a shot of liquid courage _

_ Leave a light on if you're able _

_ 'Cause we both know you're unstable _

_ Call a doctor, say a prayer _

_ Choose a god you think is there _

She never thought she would be in this position, the sound of the machine beeping filled her ears as she waited for her checkup.

Her checkup, she had people who cared about her, who wanted her alive and could provide the means of keeping her alive.

One was a deep brown, the other a fair pink much like herself when she isn't in the sun too long. They wanted her like how the other couple wanted Alex and Johnny.Despite already having a daughter, despite how they could have chosen someone who wasn’t burdened, they took her in.

Lifting her head up, she sent a prayer that things would stay this steady, that they’ll stay this good.

_ 'Cause my monsters are real, and they're trained how to kill _

_ And there's no comin' back and they just laughed at how I feel _

_ And these monsters can fight, and they'll never say die _

_ And there's no goin' back, if I get trapped I'll never heal _

_ Yeah, my monsters are real _

She still had nightmares about things she couldn’t remember when awake, she still woke up almost every night screaming and thrashing around. 

She couldn’t escape them, no matter how much she ran, they always followed her. Taunting her, hurting her.

She was a fool for thinking she could out run her monsters.


	22. Sinners

**_She was a goddess as she danced on stage, her movements graceful and full of pride as she stole the spotlight from the lead._ **

**_How other people weren’t just as enticed by her as he was, it baffled him, how could they resist staring at such a lovely flower as she danced? The way she moved and bent with the music._ **

**_She was just as lovely as his darling angel, the mobility she had, the way everything worked with her._ **

**_Finally she had stopped, just in time with the rest, no sign of exhaustion had crossed her features as she displayed a show stopping smile to the crowd. With one last bow, she made her way off stage with her group._ **

**_He needed his dearest flower._ **

She changed quickly, she had felt the presence of the creature during her performance. The thing she was hunting was here and if she wasn’t fast, she might just miss it.

Sending a text Jean-Marie’s way, she hurried to start her search backstage when, “Hey, Chloe, where are you going? We can’t afford to be a man down if we are sent to the next round.” 

“I know Poppy, but trust me, I’ll be back before eleven, I promise.”

“The last time you promised that you were gone for almost a day, if you don’t shape up I will have to remove you from this group.”

“Then remove me.” She swallowed, looking her superior in the eyes. “You know what I’m getting into and you know how dangerous that is, just remove me now because you’re going to have to one of these days. We both know I’m not going to stop hunting.”

“Be back here at ten fifthy for the next performance and when this is over, you’re off the team.” 

“Gotcha.” She smiled and sprinted out the room, now wasn’t the time to get emotional over this.

Using the pull to guide her, she headed into the storage units of the building, sneaking past employees as she followed the pull. That itty bitty demon part of her snarled and thrashed as it felt the presence of the other demon, causing worry to bubble up and nag at the back of her brain.

Creeping into a storage room, she let out a breath of relief, the room was almost bare, save for a mirror laying in the center of the wall opposite of her. Gripping her handgun a little bit tighter, she approached the mirror, feeling the pull lead her closer.

Standing in front of it at the halfway mark, she raised the gun. Readying her hand, she shot at it. Blasting a decent size hole in the glass that made up the mirror, she ludged away as a single blue hand curled around the edge of the entrance.

Slamming her back into the door, she grabbed the handle and jerked it.

Nothing happened, she was locked in the room with the demon. Raising her gun up again, she let another bullet fly into the beast’s shoulder. As it let out the familiar shrill cry of a wounded demon, she aimed again.

It was quick in its counter, leaping forward to knock the gun out of her hand. Its aim was off a bit and she instead went crashing into the wall to her left, dropping the gun.

**“Now, now, little flower, that’s no way to greet someone, especially not the man you just saved.”** The beast had a surprisingly human voice, one generally associated with demons of high positions like the princes of hell.  **“Through an introduction is probably best for my little flower.”** He bowed a little, his face splitting in a wide smile.  **“I am the Sinner, the rightful king of hell who’s been gone from my throne for far too long.”**

She wasn’t going to lie, if the monster in front of her wasn’t just that, a monster, she might have giggled at that. Instead she spat in his face. “Call me your little flower again and I’ll have your head you absolute bitch.” She snarled, feeling the way her demon curled around her heart. “And don’t make me laugh, the Sinner wouldn’t be trapped in a mesly mirror, surely Fiona locked him away in much tighter bonds.” 

**“Ah, the joys of disbelief, the innocents and naivety of it all, how adorable.”** The beast seemed to mock her as it walked closer, kicking her gun to the other side of the room.  **“It just makes people like you all the more delicable.”**

He pounced on her, his mouth ripping open as he tried to sink his teeth in flesh. Ducking down, she sprinted across the room to escape it.

“Okay, you did it, your the big, bad Sinner. Fiona can suck my ass when I’m done with this. Now can you explain the little flower thing?” She was stalling, sue her, she wasn’t about to fight this on her own. Jean-Marie and Sweeney should be here any minute. “I had several nicknames in my life, but that’s a new one.”

**“You are delicate and small, much like the failige flowers you live among, a fitting nickname for what will be mine.”**

“Yours? I take it you have a liking to me then? Sad, figured men with standards would try to woo me.” She smiled cheekily at him, hovering at the edge of the wall as she slowly made her way around the beast. “Through, I doubt demons have standards.”

He swung at her again, screeching over some apparent assault to the king. “Hey, I was joking man, have you ever heard one? And I thought you fellas were the fun ones.”

**“The fun ones?”**

“Yeah, angels are firm and uptight where demons are loose and wild, everything else falls in between. You’re the two extremes.” She was genuinely laughing now, wasn’t it only recently the Sinner was trapped in his prison and seemed up to date, surely he must know some of their stereotypes.

**“How odd, never thought my proud and dearest children would let themselves be seen as anything but deadly.”** The beast stopped moving and just frowned.  **“But it has been centuries since I last seen the light of hell, so times have changed. Must be easier to catch prey by blending in.”** She really needed to clarify with these older beings the difference between their idea of recent. 

“Your absolutely right, ever heard of clowns?” She decided to play along, the Sinner’s powers wouldn’t have anything to do with how much information he knew and besides, clowns are easy to spot.   
**“Nightmare’s little monsters, how pathetic they are. It’s truly disgusting to see them.”** He had such fondness in his voice as he talked about them. **“Why?”**

They’re known now for their ability to blend into crowds if given the right circumstance.” She quipped as the door burst open

That horrific screech filled her ears again and she covered them as Jean-Marie’s and Sweeney’s guns went blasing. Finally the beast fled into the shadows. “I’m pretty sure you just got the show canceled.”

“Should have done that in the beginning.”

“Too much media drama that way, best to just go undercover.” She laughed and bolted out the room. “I got to go.”


	23. Part one of me trying to write mental illnesses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I probably fucked up on this since I don't know a lot about paranoid personality disorder, but I wrote this in a class period without access to a computer to fact check that way they are affected by the disorder so I kinda expect this to not be an accurate depiction of someone with PPD. I just sort went with what felt right.

Eyes seemed to peer at him at every corner, haunting him as he walked down the street. Every person he came across made it feel as if they were staring at him, planning something. Their glazes were unblinking, stuck on his back as he walked, judging his every step.

He knew, somewhere in the deepest corners of his head, that this was all made up. That he was over thinking things, that he was overreacting.

But that didn't stop him from breaking out in a mad dash in hopes of outrunning a fiend that doesn't exist. He didn't apologize when he bumped into people,barely sparing them a glance as he ran, he was too far gone in his own paranoia to stop and look around.

To realize no one was chasing him.

Instead he prepared for the inevitable, for when they manage to catch up to him and drag him into a darken corner and...

Things came to a halt as he crashed into the cement sidewalk, the sound of someone else's groan of pain came from above him.

"You alright sir? That was a nasty fall." The girl rolled off of him, offering up a hand of help. "I'm pretty sure you lost whoever was chasing you."

He glanced at the offer hand and then to the otherwise emtpy street. A new wave of panic settle in, they were alone, anything could happen and the chances of her getting caught would be thin.

"Hey." The girl crouched down in front of him, eyes softening. "I'm Maria if that helps, what's going on?"

He backed away from the girl, whimpering a bit, she was too close, backing him into a corner.

"Whoa, I'm not dangerous, I swear. Just tell me what's wrong so I can help you. I'll call the police if you like." What kind of gloat was that? Tell your victim you're calling the police then attack them? Actually calling them after assaulting someone before leaving?

The girl sighed, fully sitting down as she dialed the number in. "Hello? I need a police unit here. There's this guy who's petrified and he's not responding to my questions. I think he might be running from someone and got away, but he won't clarify anything. We're on June street. Thank you." Pocketing her phone, she flashed him a smile. She was about to attack him, wasn't she? "They'll be here in five, okay? Whoever did this to you won't get away with it, I promise."

He just whimpered again, pressing himself against the fence. "Yeah, I get that. The immediate paranoia once you escape. It really sucks." Was she lying to get him to trust her. "I was once kidnapped by some creep, got out a month later, I only recently got over my own fears. Took four years of hard work, but I did it, I cawalk outside without constantly looking over my shoulders."

She continued like that, softly talking to him as he flinches away from any attempts she made to approach him. He wouldn't let himself be fooled by her words.

A entirely different sort of panic sprung up at the sight of police officers. Authority figures who'll easily abuse their power over him. Who can shoot him and claim self defense to get away with it.

He started crying as they approached, watching them pausing as he did so. They looked uneasy, like didn't know know what to do.

Finally a female officer dropped her gun and starting approaching him again, hands raised to where he could see them. "I'm officer Jones, my team and I are here to help you, but to do so, I need you to cooperate with us. I'm going to go over and assist you up, okay?"

"NO!" The scream tore out of his throat as he kicked at the officer. He couldn't let them near him, he couldn't let them hurt him.

"Gene, Terry, restain him." The officer barked, jumping back. Two pairs of sturdy hands were on him, holding him down, but there was no pain as he thrashed about in their grips. "Let him wear himself out before we move him."

"Are you sure this the way to go?" The girl asked, watching his struggle, panic and fear settled in her eyes. "He looks even more terrified than before."

"He's in a panic and could post hatm to himself and other, as per protocol, we are to restain him as gently as possible until he calms down. Trust me, we don't like having to do it, but occasionally in must be done." The officer explained, grimacing.

Finally, he stopped struggling, laying limp in the two men grip as he cried. He was at these people mercy, they could do anything and just leave him to die.

Instead, they helped him stand, guiding him to the police car. His brain short wired at the amount of delicately and care they handle him with. Panic settle down, unclouded his mind.

In it's place was shame and guilt. He wasted these people time thanks to his stupid paranoia getting the better of him.

He didn't speak to anyone on the way to the station. To lost in scolding himself to care.


	24. Part two of my attempts at writing mental illnesses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not an expert in personality disorders, I'm just going off on the information on the internet about avoidant personality disorder and my own experience with my anxiety issues. If any of this is portrayed incorrectly, please feel free to correct me.
> 
> Also, I'm doing all of this on my phone because I don't have access to a computer, apologies beforehand for that.

The desire to say something to rebutt that ranting lunatic on the other side of the dispute burned within her, coursing through her veins.

But she didn't, she just pursed her lips and looked onwards. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and screw up her side of the argument, didn't want to face the criticism of everyone around her when she stumbles on her words or mispronounces something.

Better to be quiet than suffer for her words. It didn't matter how well versed and passionate she was on this topic, they'll find something to pick apart and ridicule her for.

"Mary, why don't you add something. I know how much you love this topic." She gritted her teeth, the damned teacher put her on the spot. She wanted to throw something at her, but forced herself not to. She didn't even like this topic, she was passionate about it, there is a difference.

Standing up, she sorted through her stack of notes, finding the point they were on, open her mouth to speak and 

Nothing came out, she just stared at the class who stared back. Her throat closed in fear as she closed her mouth. Her hands began to tremble and her sight became blurry.

She couldn't take the judging stares, not could she stand the silence as sobs started to rack her body. She was a joke, couldn't even fight for something so important to her. Her classmates thoughts were on full display, how they were trying not to laugh at her, calling her the failure that she was, mocking her.

"Way to go miss, just put her on the spot like that. She could have spoken up at anytime during the dispute, bit instead you pushed her into speaking and now she's crying." The student who spoke before her snapped. It felt surreal, shouldn't they be laughing at her? Calling her a dumbass? Mocking her?

Instead another classmate pulled her out of the room and sat her down in the hallway. "It's okay. No one's going to judge you for crying. Just let it out." A soothing hand rubbed gentle circle on her back as they spoke. "Miss Ro was dumb to do that, you could have spoken up anytime you liked, no one should have tried to force you to do so."

A question of why burned at the back of her throat, but she shoved it down. It didn't matter how much she wanted to know why they were being so nice or why they weren't tearing her apart limb my limb, it would have brought on it's own form of judgement.

"I mean, no offense, but it was kinda clear you have sort of anxiety issue, maybe a disorder, maybe not. But you have something." They continued, taking a seat next to her.

She just nodded, unable to speak.


	25. Elmwood Street

There was something going on in Elmwood street, that she knew for certain. The way the people smiled and never had something bad to say. She heard of nice people, but the lack of any negativity is unnatural.  
It’s stranger still when Sammie pulls her back from going into the garden surrounding the street and whispers softly, don’t go too close to Elmwood street. How Annie will pick her up and cover her ears when they walk past their chatting neighbors.  
Then there the rumors on her own block, how it’s a cannibal cult or a street full of demons and ghouls. Other kids her age would shiver and run at the sight of one of the Elmwood children in school, who spent all day sitting in their class in a small little group, broad grin plastering their faces.  
Mother never told her to be nice to those kids despite her insistence to do so to others, those kids were creepy, staring at you without blinking until you turned away, their smiles never twitching or even fading.  
Then when Jean-Marie came around, she learned about the parts of the world she didn't know existed, that creatures of supernatural fiction lived alongside them, with morals and behaviors that kept up with their own.  
That day she marched through the garden of Elmwood street and to the house of Analice Brown, one of the girls in her garde. She was set on meeting them to see if they were really as scary as she once believed them to be.  
“Hello Chloe, I wasn’t expecting visitors today, come in, I’m sure I can whip up something.”  
“There’s no need Miss Brown, I’m not that hungry, I just wanted to play with Analice. Her only friends are the ones on this street and I don’t think that’s good for her.” She recited the lines she practiced in the mirror before coming here. She didn’t want to screw up in front of them.  
“Oh, how well spoken of you, Analice is a little sick today so she is stuck in her room for now, the poor dear.”  
“Oh, I see, I’ll leave then.” She moved to head away.  
“Would you like to stay for tea? It would be nice to have a little chat with someone.”  
“Of course miss Brown, I’ll stay for a bit.” Stilling her fears, she stepped into the house.  
It looked like any other house with personal decorations on the walls and floor. A pang of guilt shot through her, did she misjudge an entire street of people. “The house is a little dirty, but that’s no matter. What sort of tea do you like or do you prefer milk?’  
“Milk please.” She replied, taking a seat at the table. It was for almost ten people, which was odd considering only Analice and her mother lived here. “What’s with the big table?”  
“Family heirloom, a bit ridiculous, but it’s sentimental.”  
“Oh.” She whispered.  
They talked and talked throughout the afternoon, with miss Brown entertaining her with stories of her family.  
She forgot to tell her that she never brought out the tea and milk.  
Analice stopped coming to school after that and kids from Elmwood street smiles were smaller now. Still the most prominent thing on their face, but just slightly less.  
She went over and talked to them that day, asking about their mood and just trying to learn a little bit more about them.  
She learned that Eric’s favorite color was blue, Tony had plans on fighting in a war, Eva hoped to see her mother again and Allie wanted to try a sour warhead.  
The next day in school, she brought Eric a blue notebook, had a play war with Tony, and brought a bag of sour candies for Allie to try. When it was over, she and Eva visited the cemetery where her mother was buried.  
They weren’t in school the day after either.  
Day by day, she visited a house on Elmwood street, made sure to talk to every single neighbor there.  
And each day after that they disappeared.


	26. The Good Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came about after reading a True Crime novel where a murderer said he prayed to God for forgiveness.

On the evening before their execution, a murderer sent out a prayer, asking for forgiveness and admission into Heaven despite their past sins. 

"Why should I?" Was the Good Lord's answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not religious, nor do I hate religion as a whole, I just feel weird hearing people who commit atrocities such as murder act like a single prayer asking for a forgiveness by an all mighty God and felt like being petty. I hope you found it as enjoyable as I did.


End file.
